


It Comes In Flashes

by Spxrx



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Chrobin Week 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8230711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spxrx/pseuds/Spxrx
Summary: "Like I said, I owe you my life. Again and again."
  Robin couldn't bring himself to meet Chrom in the eyes, but he nodded. "You keep saying that and I'll believe it soon."
Chrobin Week standalone one-shots, both canonverse and AU.





	1. Coming Of Age

"...How old are you, Robin?" He asked absentmindedly, cleaning the blood from Falchion's hilt with one of Frederick's retired hankerchiefs. The monogram had since been covered with a dutiful amount of mud and ichor (and what Robin swore was a honey glaze from last week's fruit cake). Underneath it, Falchion gleamed in the sunlight, directing spots of white against the tents adjacent to where Chrom was sat on a stump.

Robin looked up. He'd been busy taking inventory, meticulously cataloguing their losses from the afternoon's surprise attack. It was a beautiful day, with an uncharacteristically crisp breeze that carried the leaves before they were due to fall, and the bodies that still lay strewn on the field some fifty yards away made it all the more surreal. 

"A good question with bad timing," Robin sighed, running his hands through his hair. "I'm not sure. Twenty... something?"

Chrom nodded without looking up, paying special attention to annihilating a spot with his saliva. Robin felt himself involuntarily squinting. Chrom wasn't usually this unsanitary, but the sweat of the battlefield still wet his hair, and Robin suspected he didn't give a damn. Not after losing two of their own.

Robin waited a moment's grace before returning to his work. The question seemed out of place, but he wasn't one to press Chrom- that fell on Lissa, or Frederick, or Sully, or. Well. Anyone and everyone. Chrom was probably grateful for quiet company.

Robin admittedly wouldn't have minded it either, but as soon as he reinvested himself in numbers and reconnaissance, Chrom opened his mouth again.

"I ask because you've got some lighting reflexes out there," he said. "Um... no pun intended."

With a curt exhale, Robin resigned his logbook duty and planted himself on the dirt next to Chrom. This conversation was probably going places. 

"I don't see how that's related to age," he shrugged. "Maybe I juggled for profit as a teenager."

Despite everything they'd endured today, Chrom smiled so easily it made Robin a little jealous. "Maybe you did! You should try sometime and see if you've got any muscle memory to it." He slapped the hankerchief against Falchion's blade, apparently finished with the task. "I just meant that you might've been enlisted in Plegia before... well, before all of this."

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Enlistment doesn't start until age nineteen, from what I've read."

"Nor does it in Ylisse," Chrom replied. "We still would've been on the same battlefield- back when my father was alive, y'know."

In the distance, Libra's prayers over a tarped cadaver could be seen, not heard, as he hung his head and moved his lips. Robin stared.

And then he did the math.

"You're not that old."

With a heavy swing of his arm, Chrom forcefully stuck his sword into the dirt at the base of the stump. Robin thought it was counterintuitive to, you know, cleaning the thing for half an hour, but he didn't bring it up-- he wasn't raised in a barn (or maybe he was?), and he was finally getting used to Chrom venting his emotions in his presence. Call him unsympathetic, but he kind of liked bearing witness.

A big part of him felt like he didn't deserve it.

"You're right! I'm not," Chrom said, in a casual tone that didn't match his body language. "My father thought it wise to start me out... a bit earlier than usual. You know. Warrior prince and all that."

Robin winced. "Euuufff. And how early is early?"

Chrom scrunched up his face in a way that looked like he was about to apologize. "Um. Thirteen?"

"Thirteen?!"

"Ish! Thirteen-ish!" Chrom countered. 

"That's hardly-- that's," Robin shook his head. "That's not any better!"

"I'm not saying it is!" Chrom said, his voice getting higher, but he smiled again. Robin tried not to smile back, but lost so, so easily. This was becoming a trend, he noticed.

"Well. Your father certainly had high hopes for you, then. No one in their right mind stages a child on death's doormat."

Chrom bounced his leg. "I guess? I was never permitted to leave his side, of course, and he never parleyed with the enemy when it wasn't absolutely necessary. I didn't go out with him more than a few times a year until I was of age. But," he sighed. "Point of all this. You and I might've been in the same place at the same time. Isn't that wild?"

"Yeah, it's something," Robin answered. "I guess you should count your lucky stars that I didn't strike you dead, right?" He chuckled, burying the irony in his throat. Oooh, that was going to hurt in a few hours. Right at bedtime, when his brain wanted to sucker-punch him.

"Thank heavens a big, surly monster such as yourself decided to spare me!" Chrom joked, eyes passing over Robin's small frame. "Looks like I owe you for two lifetimes now."

Robin curled his legs into himself, catching up after his eyes strayed back to Libra's work. "Two? Wait, when was the second?"

When Chrom didn't answer immediately, Robin looked up and saw him sternly looking back at him. He wore his heart on his sleeve, sure, but the changeover was still hard to keep up with.

"Seriously? You didn't guard my flank on purpose back there?"

Robin shook his head in confusion. "What are you talking about?" Did he miss something...?

"Gods, Robin, if you hadn't stepped in with that Arcfire after Vaike went down, I wouldn't have even seen that flail coming," he said, going flat. "That wasn't premeditated?"

Robin tried to tear his eyes away from the linen resting over Vaike's body, out of respect for their comrade and politeness for Chrom, but he was having trouble concentrating, and the breeze was starting to kick up dust.

"I..." Robin started, and stopped. "I didn't expect there to be an attack at all. I'm so sorry, Chrom, I... there are maneuvers we can practice-- drills we can run, next time--"

"Hey. Stop," Chrom said softly, resting a too-warm hand on Robin's shoulder, the weight of it thick and grounding. "It's okay. I didn't mean to place any blame on you. It's not your fault. Like I said, I owe you my life. Again and again."

Robin couldn't bring himself to meet Chrom in the eyes again, but he nodded. "You keep saying that and I'll believe it soon."

Chrom didn't falter. "I owe you my life, and my friendship." At that, he stood, dusting off his pants before offering a hand to Robin. Naturally, Robin couldn't refuse it, and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, some mere inches away from Chrom's chest. He closed his eyes.

"I thought you joined the army at thirteen, not charm school," he managed to tease. 

It took a moment for Chrom to let go of his hand, but when he realized he was still holding it, he quickly let it drop. "Both were necessary."

Robin's pulse was starting to slow again. He couldn't help but wonder if Chrom was right- if he'd ever had to enlist, and if he'd ever had to face the reality of war before his mind had the luxury of forgetting it all. If he'd ever even reached nineteen in Plegia in the first place.

He motioned at Chrom to free Falchion and make for the convoy pile again, but Chrom shook his head. "No, it's break time. Let's get something to eat. It's been a long day."

Robin disagreed, and knew that a break would guarantee he wouldn't be able to finish inventory before the sun started to set, but he allowed himself to be pulled away regardless. Robin may have been tasked with ensuring the safety of Ylisse's best, but Chrom acted as though his only priority was to ensure the safety of Robin.

Maybe he was significantly older than Robin, after all.

"You're thinking again," Chrom said simply. "It's okay. We're okay."

Robin took a moment, and nodded. "Thank you. For reminding me. Sometimes I need to be reminded."

Chrom's hand returned to his shoulder for the second time today, and Robin felt himself relax into it. He tried not to think about the implications of that.

"I've got your back, okay?"

Robin pushed the guilt out of his mouth before he spoke, because he wanted so desperately to speak as honestly and earnestly as Chrom. He wanted to give it all back to him, that and more-- because what else were friends for?

What else was Robin here for?

"I've got your back too, Chrom," he said--

And he quickly doubled over in pain from a searing headache.


	2. Branded & Marked

The flame of the oil lamp was already decaying when Chrom approached Robin's doorframe. He reached out a hand to rap twice against the polished wood- his usual introduction- but paused, taking in the sight of his tactician silhouetted against the glow. Robin was hunched into himself at his desk, with his head tilted in passive curiosity as he studied the back of his hand- the mark that they'd both discussed at length at least a thousand times already- and he let out a tired, shaky breath.

Chrom felt his heart snag against his ribcage.

"You should try to get some sleep," he said quietly. Robin jumped in surprise all the same.

"Chrom. Hi. Sorry," Robin answered, rubbing his eyes as he spun around in his seat.

"You don't need to apologize! I should've knocked." Chrom started to take a step forward, but thought better to ask first. "Is it all right if I come in?"

Robin nodded. "Of course. Something I can help you with? I already drafted tomorrow's cavalry plans." He shuffled through a stack of paper that'd been pushed aside, gathering up a small pile to hand over. Chrom frowned.

"C'mon, maybe I just wanted to check up on you," he said, moving over to the chaisse opposite the desk and taking a seat.

"Are you particularly concerned?" Robin asked with a shrug, turning back in his chair. He set the stack of paper back down on top of a bigger, messier pile.

Chrom considered his wording. "Well, you're a little concerning, I'll admit," he said, but not without an easy smile. He motioned to Robin's hand. "You seemed pretty invested in that just a second ago. Anything you want to talk about?"

Robin idled, picking up a pen and turning it over in his fingers before setting it back down. Chrom thought the pensivity was alarming- Robin wasn't a bad actor by any means, and easily played the part of a happy man when he wanted to. Was it an honor or a curse to see Robin's vulnerability? It certainly made Chrom feel like shit to stand and watch.

"No, there's nothing I want to talk about," he finally answered, but explained when Chrom raised an eyebrow. "Not in a bad way! There's just nothing to touch on. Same old story, same old mark. You know." He splayed his fingers out and looked over them. "...I just can't help but think I'm out of options."

Chrom leaned backwards onto the lounge, kicking his legs up onto the cushion. "Options for what?" he asked, staring up at the ceiling. "Don't go telling me you're planning to lop it off with a knife or something."

Robin sighed. "Metaphorically, yes." He pushed himself out from the desk and paced over to Chrom. "I'd like to find a way to ignore it. Forever, if possible," he added, sinking down onto the cushion somewhere near Chrom's knees. "But I can't just go and do that. It's a reminder that I was supposed to be a catalyst. Nothing more, nothing less."

It took a lot of reserve not to roll his eyes, but Chrom managed. "You're laying the melodrama on a little thick here, don't you think?" Robin gave him a sharp look, but Chrom held up his hand to offer an explanation. "Listen. I agree with you. Predestination? Marks of the Gods? That's a big deal," he said, moving his legs aside to make room for Robin to scootch in. It took a moment, but Robin obliged. "But you've never let it get to you before. Why the sudden change? Don't tell me you're starting to believe we'll lose this thing," he smiled.

Robin took a moment, presumably to formulate his next sentence. "I... I'm just considering every possible outcome, that's all," he said quietly.

"You're worried."

"Of course I am."

Chrom hummed. "You're worried about me. Those nightmares where you kill me."

Robin's cheeks grew a little redder. "Of course I am! But that's just the start of it."

Without thinking, Chrom took Robin's hand in his own, looking over the fine lines of the mark as though it were a simple tattoo. Robin reflexively twitched, but let him do it.

"Yours is a reminder that we cannot stop, no matter the cost. My family's- mine- is a reminder that we've always got righteousness on our side," Chrom said softly. He waited for Robin to make another joke about reserving those kinds of lines for speeches, but it never came.

Robin didn't take his hand back. Chrom met his gaze, and tentatively gave it a squeeze. "Okay?"

Chrom searched his friend's face, trying to find a way to fish him out of his own thoughts. "Robin? You okay?"

Slowly, Robin exhaled- apparently, he'd been holding his breath. "Um. Yeah. Sorry." He still didn't pull his hand away. "You know how- ah, shit. You know how we talked about holding off until after the war?"

Chrom blinked more slowly than he thought was possible. Robin's mind was often two steps ahead of him. He didn't want to break it to Robin that people needed filling in, sometimes.

"Holding off?... You mean like..."

Robin interjected. "Yeah. Being intimate."

Chrom shook his head, trying to play mental catch-up. His pulse had managed to double- they hadn't talked about this in weeks. They hadn't even kissed since Summer, during the meteor shower. There had been too much red tape- too many people watching their every move-

"Yeah? What about it?"

"...Is that still something you want to do?" Robin asked, his voice thin and slow.

Chrom brought his free hand up to his face and pulled it across his mouth. "Uh. Yeah? If you're okay with it? Robin, how is this related to-"

"I'm sorry. I'm just. I want you to give me-" he huffed. "Give me a better mark or two, if you catch my drift. Keep my mind busy for a while," he finished rapidly, his face going completely scarlet when Chrom's eyebrows shot up.

"Are you serious?" Chrom sputtered, and let out an accidental laugh (followed up with an apology). "Did you really just say that? You're going to be the death of me, and not for the reasons you seem to think." He pulled Robin in close, giving him time to reposition himself comfortably, his back against Chrom's chest. 

"Excuse me for not knowing how to bring it up!" Robin said, burying his face in his hands. Chrom's stupid lovesick heart skipped an entire measure.

"I'm sorry. It's just been so long. I kind of worry that you're not as invested as I am," Chrom admitted. "Not that I'd hold it against you! I'm with you for the long haul, partners or otherwise,"

Robin's muffled voice answered from behind his hands. "Do you ever listen to yourself when you talk?"

Chrom smiled against Robin's nape, his lips pressing into the skin just above the collar of his nightclothes. "I've been told I'm embarrassing."

A sharp, surprised breath escaped from Robin's mouth as he registered the contact. "Not embarrassing, exactly," he said.

Chrom pressed a kiss into the slope of his neck, taking note of Robin's rapidly forming goosebumps. "Oh? That's news."

"You're cheesy, that's for sure," Robin breathed, letting his hands rest against his sides. Chrom watched as he impulsively glanced at his mark again. 

"Robin. It'll be there in the morning, trust me. It's not going anywhere."

"Unfortunately-" Robin agreed, just as Chrom opened his mouth against his tendon and sucked. That earned him a grunt.

Chrom quickly backed off, but couldn't wipe the smile from his face. "You sure you want this? This is kind of different for you."

Robin tilted his head back, trying to make eye contact with him. "You know, I really do want you. I want to be with you. I just..." He sighed. "Don't want anyone to catch on. Not yet."

Chrom knew all of this, of course. He knew there was little hope for a public relationship- it wasn't a matter of gender, since that sort of thing held no bearing since Emmeryn's liberal peacetime began- it was the forbearance of his political role, the breaking of a professional relationship, and the dalliance with the son of King Validar. It'd take a lot of convincing the halidome that he wasn't just fucking around.

He paused, and Robin must've taken it as hesitation. He twisted around to fully face him.

"Chrom. Really... I love you, I promise," he said, his voice low, as though trying to break bad news.

Chrom cupped his jaw and pulled him in, kissing him gently, then ferverently, running his hand back up into his hair- he felt Robin pushing back against him, his weight shifting so that he layed flush to Chrom's front side. Robin breathed loudly out of his nose, let Chrom turn his chin up and tug down the front of his tunic. Chrom's mouth closed on the crevice just above his collarbone- Robin smelled like an inkwell- and he felt him shudder.

"Um. Below the sternum, if that's okay," Robin said, already winded as he straightened himself back up in Chrom's lap. Chrom wasted no time in following directions. With a steady arm, he leaned them both back in the opposite direction, and slid Robin's shirt up. "My-- my court vest has a low neckline- oh fuck, Chrom, not that low-" 

Robin brought his hands up to Chrom's hair after he playfully chanced a nip at his hipbones. "Sorry," Chrom laughed, sliding Robin's hand away from the back of his head and kissing him on the palm. Robin's flush was evident as it spread across his chest.

"I'm still getting used to this, I have to admit," Robin said, suddenly very invested in the artisan molding of the ceiling tiles. 

"If do anything that makes you uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to tell me," Chrom replied. "I just want you to be happy."

Robin nodded, bringing his hand up to shield his face. Chrom tried not to look at the eyes staring back at him.

"I know."

"Do you want me to stop?"

Robin didn't move his hand. "I asked you to go to town on me in the first place."

Chrom tried not to snort. "That doesn't mean anything!"

"I'm sorry," Robin asserted, and Chrom realized he was tearing up under there. 

Ah.

He straightened himself. "Robin, we can try this another time if you'd like. Hickies be damned," he said quietly. "I'll put on some tea and we can try to get some sleep."

Robin didn't say anything, until he did.

"I get so caught up in the details. You'd think I'd be able to predict this sort of outcome. I'm a tactician."

"You're more than that." Chrom kissed his free hand again. "Just because we found you and gave you a title doesn't mean you're not human."

"I know."

Chrom kissed his forehead. "And just because you think you're going to murder me in cold blood doesn't mean you're inherently evil."

"Wow, thanks, that makes me feel better," Robin commented with the tiniest bit of humor, finally sliding his hand off his face. "There's a moral to this, I take it?"

Chrom sat back, letting Robin take up space. 

"Yeah. We need to get some rest."

Robin rolled his eyes, the wetness still driving a pang of guilt into Chrom's gut. "Yeah. I hope it's not too much to ask to share a bed tonight?" He sat up, giving Chrom a thin smile. 

"Only if you want to."

Robin nodded mutely, still recovering, and Chrom stood up. "Settled. I'll see you in ten with some chamomile?"

"Two sugars," Robin added, but Chrom had tried to beat him to it-- they ended up saying it in unison. Chrom smiled. Maybe, in the end, he could make Robin happy after all.

...He rolled over in the night some hours later to find that Robin had put on his leather gauntlets and covered every last bruise with a thick, long-sleeved tunic.

He closed his eyes.


End file.
